Salvation

It took him the better part of two weeks to get to the Blasted Lands. The first week had been eventful, since everywhere he went – and he kept to the roads stubbornly – foolish fighters wanted to harass him. Possibly even kill him. I won't. I won't kill 'em. I won't! They slowed him down, but he kept walking. Finally his passive demeanor got noticed and he was left alone. Most people now only stared at him and some even threw sticks, stones and fruit at him. Some of the fruit was rotten, he smelled it. However, mostly he was left alone, looked at like he was either a rabid dog that no one wanted to put down or a marvel of nature, chased by the occasional 'oooh' or 'aaah'. For the most part of that second week he got ignored and contrary to fact, he actually did go away after a short while. Finally he arrived at that dreaded place: the Dark Portal.

For reasons still unknown to him a band of rebel Alliance members had chosen that particular day two years ago to visit the Dark Portal to slay every Horde member they would come across. The perpetrators had been caught after a long and hard fight and subsequently executed for their crimes, but for Harukhana it had been too late. She and him had been caught unaware, minding their own business of searching for certain herbs. He'd fought like never before, giving those bastards a piece of his personal hell, but he hadn't been able defend her. I couldn't save her… I couldn't save you! She'd been stabbed from behind and before he could rush to her aid, her body was incinerated by one of the mages. That particular mage hadn't been caught that day, he'd made sure of that. The memory of those screams still brought a smile to his face, even during his periods of deepest despair.

Now he stood on very same spot as two years ago, looking at the place where her burned body had lain. In his mind he still saw her blackened remains, saw how he'd picked her up and cradled her dead body in his powerless arms. He'd screamed, he'd bellowed and that day a part of him left him. But there was one thing he hadn't done, one thing that he finally could do on this day: he cried. He slumped to the ground like a newborn, his head in his hands and he let his tears flow freely, in memory of her life. The salt stung his open wounds as he just sat there and cried in complete silence. Why? he kept thinking. Why aren't I whole again? Why haven't I found what I'm missing? Why? Why aren't I complete again? His despair was tearing at him and suddenly he could hear them again. His family. They were calling to him, asking him to return home. They'd forgive him, they'd help him heal, they'd help him get rid of those feelings that were so alien to them… And why not? What have I got to live for? Nothing! There's nothing left for me. I'm broken and nothing can heal me ever again. Nothing… Then he felt the light touch of a hand on his shoulder.

"Vozhun…" he heard her say, her lovely voice soothing and comforting, sounding exactly like he remembered, "my dear Vozhun... Now you are truly free. You know love, you know loss, you know life... You are truly you, unique amongst your kind and thus unique amongst all the races on Azeroth. Find your place in this world, in this war... And when you are ready, however long it will take, come to me. I'll be waiting."

Vozhun looked up and saw how Harukhana's spirit smiled at him, radiating trust and pride. And when he finally spoke, for the first time since he lost her, he said those once hated words with unconditional love, not as a slave but as a free demon.

"Yes... master."